PS 3515 
.P4 L3 
1905 
Copy 




JlpdOtberhitk%im 

By Herbert 
l^ippe Hsjpbly 



^-^ivar)d o r iViusic 

Ivau6t)t!er ar)a Love t^^ 4*" 4"^ 

Apd ObI)er Libble Tl)ii)^^ 
Ii) Pro^e ar)d Yer^e 4^ 4" 



BY HERBERT KEMPE HAMBLY 

Cover Design By 
MacLean Libbey. 



OBSERVER PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Washington, Pennsylvania 

1 905 



LiBftARYof 0CN6RESS 
Two Copies Receiveu 

IViAR g 1905 
A Oop^riicnt Entry 

«LASS ^ XXc. Not 

/0C>99o 

OOPY B. 

ts^ ^-r^^,:r.r i .-J 






Copyright, 1905 
BY HERBERT KEMPE HAMBLY. 



Press of 

Observer Job Rooms, 

Washington, Pa. 



i 



Autl|nr'a Nntp. 



previously appeared in various publications, but for the 
most part, they first see the light of day here. 

If you are "nothing if not critical," prithee delve not 
deeper into these pages ; but if, on the contrary, your 
sense of justice be tempered with mercy, to you I commend 
them, trusting that with a spirit of kindness and gen- 
erosity, you will overlook the many faults, and that you 
may find some few virtues. 

'Tis but a trifle, but such as it is, I offer this little 

volume to the public without further apology, and lovingly 

dedicate it 

TO MY MOTHER. 



CONTENTS. 

PROSE. 

THE LAND OF MUSIC, LAUGHTER AND LOVE 5 

The Story of a Violin. 

BABY 22 

An Actor's Story. 

DOLLY DERRINCOURT'S NOBLEMAN 32 

A Story of a Chorus Girl. 

MAT 38 

The Story of a Super. 

SPRINGTIME. 44 

A Pipe Dream. 

IN AN OLD GARDEN 48 

A Fantasy. 

VERSE. 

HAPPY JAPPY 53 

A V^AR TIME HYMN 54 

THE CUP 56 

THE SILVER LININ' 57 

YOU AND 1 58 

RIGHT OR MIGHT 59 

THE DRAMA FOR THE MASSES 60 

MY LADY MOODS 61 

THE SHADOW 62 

MEMORIAL DAY 64 

THANKSGIVING 66 

AN EPILOGUE 68 



The Land of Music, Laughter 
and Love. 

"The Woi-ldly Hope men set their Hearts upon 
Turn Ashes — or it prospers ; and anon 
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty B^ace, 
Lighting a little hour or two — is gone." 

— Omar Kliuytjum. 

I. 

,(/-' ^-^A. HE theatre was an old one, dirty, ill*lighted 

S^ try ^ and uninviting looking. In its day it had 

% T y been one of the most important in the city 

^^\^/i^ but time changes many things and now in- 

^ stead of the great stars who once "fretted 

their hour upon the mimic stage" of the house, third rate 

actors in cheap road companies performed on the time 

honored boards. And this week a popular price repertoire 

opera company was in possession. 

The curtain had just fallen on the first part of the 
night's bill which was made up of two well known one- 
act operas. The orchestra pit was deserted save for the 
instruments which lay around on the chairs while the 
musicians took a rest in some mysterious cavern under the 
stage. 

"Poor house to-night", remarked the piano to the clari- 
onet as it looked over the audience. 



THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



"And just as chilly as it's poor", replied the clarionet. 

"Not half so chilly as the actors will be at the end of 
the week when they find that the ghost isn't going to 
walk", growled out the trombone. 

"That's no pipe dream", squeaked the flute. 

The old violin lay quiet amidst all the chatter and said 
nothing. After a few minutes silence the cornet looked 
at the violin and remarked : 

"What's the matter with you to-night, old lady ?" 

"I'm just tired", replied the violin. 

"Tired", yelled the trombone, "and what the devil 
right l^ve you to be tired ?" 

"Well, I think I've every kind of right", mournfully 
replied the string portion of the little orchestra. "For 
one thing I'm sick and tired of being played upon by such 
a miserable apology for a musician as the so-called violinst 
you call your leader." 

"Oh indeed, and doesn't he play well enough for your 
royal highness ?" mockingly asked the cornet. 

"Play!" cried the violin with increasing wrath. "Play! 
Why he doesn't know the real meaning of the word music. 
He's a mere mechanic and a bad one at that. He ought 
to be playing a grind organ instead of a violin." 

"Well, I guess he gets as much out of an old fiddle 
like you as anyone could", sneeringly remarked the piano. 

The old violin shook with rage. "Don't call me a 
fiddle", she said. "There's more blue blood in my veins 
than the rest of you ever even dreamed about. I've mixed 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



with better company than any one of you ever even heard 
of, you — you — bunch of tin pans. Music indeed ! What 
do you or the masters of any of you, know about music ? 
Nothing. Why I could tell you tales about music that 
would make you rattle in your chairs. You may think I'm 
lying but I tell you right here, that before any one of 
you were made I was electrifying the world with the 
music my master made with me. You may think that 
because I'm old, and because the music that comes out of 
me now is poor stuff, that I'm a nobody, but let me tell you 
who I really am. I'm ." 

"Well, who the Dickens are you anyhow ?" said the 
trombone with a grin as the violin hesitated. 

The excitement had weakened the old violin, "What's 
the use of telling you ?" she sighed wearily as her strings 
quivered with emotion. "You wouldn't believe me if I 
told you and even if you did believe me you wouldn't 
understand." 

"Listen to my lady high and mighty", squeaked the 
flute. 

"She's no better than any of us for all her airs", said 
the cornet sharply. "She's full of her master's dope." 

From the corner of the orchestra pit, the bass drum 
who had been silent up to now, rumbled out an oath. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, all of you", 
he said savagely. "Don't you know how to respect the feel- 
ings of an old lady. Keep your vulgar tongues still and 
let her tell her story." 



8 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



The bass drum's remarks had their effect. The other 
instruments were all more or less afraid of him for he was 
an old timer in the business and had made stage thunder 
in his day for many of the greatest players. Consequently 
he was looked upon as somewhat of a personage. 

"Thank you", said the violin quietly, "and now as my 
friend the bass drum wishes it, I will tell you a story about 
myself that cannot fail to surprise you, knowing me only 
as you do as the squeaky old fiddle that I am in my present 
owner's hands. You needn't believe me if you don't want 
to, boys, but God knows that it's the truth I'm going to 
tell you and it's a sad enough story. I won't mention any 
names because it would seem like sacrilege for me to do 
so, though I don't suppose I shall ever again see or hear 
of the chief actor in the pathetic drama in which I figured 
so prominently." 

II. 

"Ten years ago", commenced the violin, "the principal 
figure in the musical world was a certain great violinist. 
All of you. little as you know of real music and musicians, 
have heard his name. He sprung up suddenly into promi- 
nence and his marvelous music soon resulted in his being 
the lion of the hour in all the great European musical 
centers, London, Paris, Vienna, Berlin, St. Petersburg and 
Rome. The musical world of all Europe was at his feet. 
He was petted and flattered in courts and by the highest 
society in all the countries of the old world, but strange 
to say such flattery did not turn his head. Women wor- 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



shipped him but he cared for none of them apparently, and 
though many famous beauties would fain have numbered 
him among their conquests, they were never able to do so. 
His identity was shrouded in mystery. Who he was or 
where he came from, no one knew and he offered no ex- 
planation. There were times when some fair lady, carried 
away with his entrancing music, would come to him with 
the love light in her eyes and say entreatingly, 'Won't 
you tell me who you are and where you came from ?' 
And then he would answer gaily, 'I came from the Land of 
Music, Laughter and Love !' And everyone wondered 
where that strange land was. 

"Great as was this man's fame, equally great was the 
fame of the instrument upon which he played and brought 
forth such glorious music, and he was just as secret as to 
how he became possessed of this violin as he was about 
his own personality. He guarded the instrument jealously 
and under no circumstances would he allow anyone else to 
touch it. To all the great musicians who pleaded to be 
allowed to play upon it, he would answer, 'No, this violin 
is sacred to me. It is all that I have in the world — yet.' 
And such lequests were never repeated. The tone of the 
violin was wondrous when played by the master hand. 
It seemed to speak with the soul of a human being and the 
great crowds that sat and listened as he played were awed 
and entranced at the wonderful music. 

"And I, my friends, was this violin, hard though it may 
be for you to believe, knowing me for what I am in my 



10 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



present owner's hands. And to me only was the mystery 
that siirrovmded this remarkable musician known — his be- 
loved violin was his only confidant. When he retired for 
the night in the Quietness of his room he would take me 
lovingly in his hands and talk to me as though I were really 
and truly human. 

"And it was not so strange that he should do so for 
had I not been his companion and friend from boyhood? 
Had he not wandered with me into the woodlands and 
poured out his soul's inmost thoughts to me year after 
year since when, as a little boy, he was first allowed the 
privilege of taking me in his hands? Little wonder then 
that he loved me and little wonder too that I loved him, 
my master — the only master I ever had or ever will have. 
New owners I may have but never masters. His entire 
history was known to me^ — his every thought — his every 
desire— and when I look back on all that happened it 
makes me weak and out of tune to think how such a beau- 
tiful life was crushed by the curse of a woman's faithless- 
ness. 

"This man, who became such a famous and picturesque 
figure in the great musical world, was a member of an old 
and noble family in a certain little principality in the heart 
of Europe— a country seldom heard of — one of those pic- 
turesque little kingdoms like the imaginary ones that 
modern novelists so often select for the scenes of their 
romances. His family was very proud but poor, and the 
boy was brought up with all the old pride of race strong 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 11 

within him. From his earliest childhood the music that 
was in his soul asserted itself. He was a good bit of a 
dreamer and as a boy would sit for hours in a quiet nook 
in the grounds of his home — alone with the exception of 
myself — and the wondrous melodies that he would bring 
forth from me were his thoughts and dreams put into 
music. For two hundred years I had belonged to this old 
family. Fabulous sums had been offered for me but poor 
as the family were for people of such noble birth, no 
amount of money could tempt them to part with me. 

"Years passed by and with the time the man's wonder- 
ful mastery of the violin grew, but he played for the love 
of music only. No thought of playing for money ever 
entered his head though there were many who told him 
what a power he could be in the great world of music, would 
he but enter into it. But family pride forbade him ever 
thinking of doing so and it was not until the one great 
event in his life happened that for a moment he seriously 
considered the giving of his music to the world. 

"It was a woman, of course. A regal beauty, a mem- 
ber of another old family in the principality but people of 
a different stamp from his people. They were rich and 
powerful and riches and power were even more to them 
than pride of race. And when such a man as my master 
loves, it is with a love that is unquenchable — a love that 
comes from the very soul — deep, tender and true as steel. 
And so he loved her, desperately, madly, and she professed 
an equal regard for him. The music that he played in 



12 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



those first few days "of this new sensation that had come 
into his life, was love's own music, every note breathing 
the wonderful passion that absorbed him. Until this time 
he had known no deeper feeling than that of affection — 
save for the love he bore me — but that was a passion differ- 
ent to all others. God !, how he loved the girl ! And 
she — well I think she too loved him then — but not with 
a love like his. 

"One day he sought out the girl's father and impetu- 
ously told of his great love and begged the daughter's 
hand. So deep was the grand passion in his heart that 
he never dreamed of a refusal but the old lord threw his 
poverty in his teeth and told him in no uncertain words 
that blue blooded as he was he was no match for the child 
of such a wealthy family. 'Blood is blood', said the old 
lord, 'but the man who marries my daughter must have 
wealth as well as a noble name.' 

"For a moment the blow staggered the ardent lover 
and then suddenly a strange light came into his dark eyes. 
He turned to the old nobleman and said: 

" 'Is it my lack of money alone that is to make my 
dream of love a hideous nightmare ?' 

" 'Young man', was the reply, 'I like you and I honor 
you, you and your family. Had you but a fortune equal to 
the dowry that I will give my daughter when she marries, 
I would gladly welcome you as a son-in-law.' 

" 'Be it so', was my master's reply. 'I leave you now, 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 13 



my lord, but I will come again and offer you both name and 
fortune.' 

"Then he sought the girl and told of his rebuff. 
Would she wait, he asked, for one short year, for in that 
time he vowed that the fortune that stood in the way of 
their happiness should be his. She protested undying love 
and promised faithfully to wait. 

" 'But how', she asked, "are you going to make this 
fortune ?' 

" 'Leave that to me, sweetheart', he said, 'but one year 
from to-day I will return and claim your hand according 
to your father's word.' Then he clasped her in his arms 
and kissed her passionately on her mouth, her eyes and 
on her lovely hair. Then breaking away from her he 
cried: 

" ' 'Tis not good-bye, sweetheart, but au-revoir. I go 
but to soon return. One short year and I will be ba-ck to 
the Land of Music, Laughter and Love. Under this very 
tree I will expect to find you waiting for me as the sun 
goes down one year from to-day.' 

"And then he left her and in his heart was a great and 
important resolution. He would give his music to the 
world — for one year only. To me alone he confided his 
intentions. To no one else he breathed a word of what he 
was about to do, but that night he quietly slipped away 
from the old home. He dared not meet his father and 
mother to tell them of his resolution but instead he left 
a letter saying that he was going away for a year. He 



14 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



asked their pardon for the seeming strangeness of his 
action and begged them to await all explanations until his 
return. Alas, I have never seen the old castle from that 
day to this. 

III. 

"How easily he succeeded in winning his way I need 
not dwell upon. One month from the day he left home 
his power was established and the fortune that was to 
bring him happiness and the girl he loved, had commenced 
to grow. He was able to command the most fabulous 
prices for his playing and he managed his affairs with a 
master hand. His private life he kept strictly to himself 
but I knew how he saved and how carefully and cheaply he 
lived through that one short year. The name he coined 
for himself soon became famous throughout the world, 
but no person ever fathomed the mystery that surrounded 
him. 

"The year drew to a close and finally the night of his 
last concert arrived. It was in the great Albert Hall in 
London and the house was crowded to suffocation with a 
mighty concourse of people, the cream of society and of the 
musical circles of the great metropolis. He had simply 
announced that after this night he would rest for awhile 
and little did the audience guess that his wonderful music 
would never be heard in public again . 

"And how he played that night ! There was a trium- 
phant, almost spiritual look in his face as he took me 
caressingly in his hands and commenced. My friends, there 



LALOHTEli AND LOVE. 15 



was never more marvelous music made in this world than 
there was that night. It rose and fell in the most wonderful 
cadences. It was sweet and low, then wild and passionate, 
and it entranced, enthralled and held that vast audience 
like a vice under its spell. And when it was over there 
was a great hush for a few moments and then came 
the applause, a mighty avalanche of sound that swept the 
audience to its feet as it cheered, wildly, enthusiastically, 
madly. He bowed and bowed repeatedly and finally he 
raised me again to his shoulder and motioned that he 
would respond to the plaudits. 

''There was no accompaniment this time for he played 
something that had never been played before — that will 
never be played again — for he improvised, and the music 
that he made came from his soul. It was the outpouring of 
a heart that was filled with a noble, passionate lovO' — 
the triumph of a soul that had set out to do great deeds and 
conquered. It was the cry of a lover to the woman he 
loved saying, 'I am coming, sweetheart, I am coming for 
thee to the Land of Music, Laughter and Love ! ' 

"The music ended and there was another tremendous 
outburst of enthusiasm. Before it had subsided he had 
taken me under his arm and quietly stolen away from the 
crowded hall, and the audience that continued to applaud, 
did so in vain. The great musician had given them his 
music for the last time." 



• 

16 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



IV. 

The old violin paused and not one of the instruments 
in the pit interrupted the silence. After a while it con- 
tinued : 

"I am now coming to the painful part of my story, 
friends, and it makes my old heart ache to tell it. But 
having once started I must go on to the end. 

"Within an hour after that final concert we were in a 
train on the way to the English coast and early the next 
morning we crossed the water. ,0n the next day, just one 
year from the day on which he had said farewell to his 
sweetheart we were in the grounds of her home again. 
The sun was just going down and we stood under the old 
tree under which my master and his lady had plighted their 
troth. 

"He was in a fever of excitement as he waited for her 
coming. Never a doubt entered his mind as to her faith- 
fulness. He had kept his word — no suspicion crept into his 
heart that she would fail to keep her's. The moments 
went by and in a blaze of summer splendor the sun went 
down — but she did not come. Anxiously he waited, pacing 
to and fro nervously, and watching the pathway down 
which she should come. But she came not. A sound as 
from many voices came suddenly from the vicinity of the 
castle which was hidden from sight by the trees. Cheer 
after cheer rent the air and then as a peasant came in 
sight hurrying towards the castle, my master hailed him 
and asked: 



LALOHTER AND LOVE. 17 

" 'Where goest thou, friend, in such a hurry ?' 

" *I go to give a parting cheer to the bride and groom', 
replied the peasant. 

" 'And who, prithee, is being wedded ?,' asked my 
master. He was trembling as he asked the question and 
there was fear and terror in his eyes. 

" 'Where hast thou been that thou hast not heard ?' 
replied the man. 'Dost thou not know that my lord's only 
^laughter this eve becomes the bride of the young lord of 
Ladisland, the wealthiest and most noble lord in all the 
principality? But do not detain me for I must hurry to 
join my companions to give the young couple a parting 
cheer.' 

"My master watched him depart and then pulling his 
large soft hat over his eyes and wrapping his cloak around 
him, he followed, and soon we were in a crowd of peasantry 
and retainers who were congregated in front of the castle. 
Just as we arrived the strains of Mendelssohn's wedding 
march were heard and a moment afterwards the young 
lord of Ladisland appeared on the terrace of the castle, and 
on his arm arrayed in bridal garments was the woman for 
whom my master had given to the world his music. 

"He turned and fled. On through the forest he tore and 
for hours and hours he uttered not a word. Finally, ex- 
hausted and worn out, he fell to the ground. And there 
during the livelong night he lay and sobbed and moaned, 
and his distress was pitiful to behold. His heart was 
broken and his reason partially lost. Can you imagine my 



18 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

feelings, friends, knowing all his misery as I knew. It 
was terrible, heartrending, and I knew that his was a nature 
that would never recover from the shock. 

"Early in the morning he arose and tramped to the 
nearest railway station and that night we were in Paris. 
He could not go back to the old home — all be wanted to do 
was to drown the sorrow that was in his heart. Not 
wishing to be recognized in Paris, he shaved off his beautiful 
black beard and moustache and then he started in on a 
year of dissipation that even yet is terrible for me to con- 
template. His excesses were the excesses of a man who 
cared not whether he lived or died — his expenditures were 
those of a man who cared not what became of his money. 
Women, drink, the gaming table, and every form of dissi- 
pation imaginable, he plunged into, and before a year had 
passed the fortune he had made for the woman who had 
deceived him, had vanished. His money all gone, he sunk 
lower and lower into a state of degradation and misery. 
But through it all he had kept me, guarding me lovingly 
through all his debauches. He never played upon me ex- 
cept on a few occasions when we were alone and he would 
have a quiet spell, but such moods would never last long. 
Sometimes at nights he would take me with him on his 
carousals but although his companions in vice would often 
ask him to play, he would always refuse with an oath. 
Finally the time came when he went out of my life. Stag- 
gering home one night, crazed with the vile absinthe, he 
fell in a dark alley and struck his head on the pavement. 



LAlGHTEll AND LOVE. 19 

rendering him unconscious. And as he lay there another 
poor drunkard came along and stole me from him. The 
next day I was in a mean little pawnshop in the slums of 
Paris. 

"I have never seen my master again. He has never 
been heard of in the musical world since that last 
triumphant night in London and it is more than likely that 
he lies in a pauper's grave in the French metropolis. 

"I lay in the pawnshop for several months but one day 
I was bought by a poor mAisician for a few francs. He did 
not know my value and he soon re-sold me. I changed 
hands many times and finally one of my purchasers 
brought me to this country. He got into hard luck and 
sold me to a second-hand dealer on the Bowery and in this 
store my present owner bought me for a five dollar bill. 

"My story is over friends. It hurt me to tell it but you 
will understand me better — now." 

V. 

The old violin had just finished the story when there 
was some excitement behind the curtain. The leader of the 
orchestra — the violin player — was lying in the musician's 
room unconscious, the victim of an overdose of a drug he 
was in the habit of taking. It was past time for the curtain 
to ring up and the manager tore up and down the stage 
cursing his luck. No other violinist could be obtained at 
such short notice and the performance could not go on 
without one who knew his business. It was an unlocked 



20 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



for dilemma and the worried manager could see no way out 
of it. 

Quietly in the midst of the confusion, a middle-aged, 
haggard-looking member of the male chorus, stepped up to 
the manager and said: 

"I can help you out if you want me to, I haven't played 
a violin for some time but I know the opera and can pull it 
through all right." 

The manager was overjoyed and he clutched at the 
offer as a drowning man will clutch at a straw. The show 
would be finished even if it did go badly and he wouldn't t 
have to give the people their money back. And that was 
all the manager cared for — for he needed that money badly. . 

The orchestra filed in and the voluntary leader picked 
up the old violin. Even as he did so the other members of 
the orchestra noticed that he trembled and they heard him 
mutter under his breath, "My God !" Then he commenced 
to play. The opera was "Cavallieria Rusticana" and the 
soul of the violin awakened for it was being played by a 
master hand. The other musicians looked on and wondered. 
They had never heard the old fiddle bring forth such tones 
before. Soon came the Intermezzo that made Mascagni 
famous in a day. It was nothing new to the audience — 
they had heard it hundreds of times before — but never had 
they heard it played as it was now being played by this 
haggard looking stranger. Lovingly he leaned over the 
old violin and seemed to be whispering to it as he brought 
forth the wonderful rich tones. Such exauisite music the 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 21 

audience had never heard. The musicians as well as the 
playgoers were entranced, and when it came to a close the 
crowd clapped, shouted and cheered with wild enthusiasm. 
No longer was the audience cold — the music had awakened 
it. In the triumph of the violinist the opera itself was 
forgotten. "Encore ! Encore!" was shouted. And some- 
one cried out, "Where does he come from ?" 

Then in the midst of the excitement the violinst arose 
and faced the audience and as he did so there was intense 
silence in the old playhouse. There was something strange 
about the entire proceeding and everybody seemed to feel 
it. The man's eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard and 
worn. Gazing straight at the people, the violin in his 
hand, he laughed aloud like a maniac. 

"Where do I come from ?" he cried. "Where ? Well, 
I'll tell you. I come from a strange land. A land you have 
never heard of. I come from the Land of Music, Laughter 
and Love ! " 

The words had hardly died upon his lips when with a 
maniacal scream, and before the people realized what was 
happening, he raised the violin to his lips and kissed it 
passionately, and then with a mighty effort he flung it with 
terrific force to the floor and trampled it into a thousand 
pieces under his feet. Another moment and he had fallen 
a huddled heap upon the fragments of the shattered violin. 

The strange musician was dead, and the soul of the 
violin had gone with that of its master. 



22 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



Wa 



BABY 

An Actor's Story. 




"Weep with me all -ye who read 
This little story ; 
And know for whom a tear you shed, 
Death's self is sorry." 

— Ben J on son. 



,1^^ ^Ai,. T was in the early springtime when Baby 
(^ <5f >^ made her first appearance amongst us. The 



^. 



I 



y, ^^y y dreary winter had passed, Kmg Frost had 
""^^V^sA/i^ hied himself away to his home in the arctic 
regions, taking with him the north wind, and 
the gentle zephyrs of spring had taken their place. To 
us, a company of poor strolling players, the change was 
right welcome, for at the best of times our's was a hard, 
comfortless life and in the winter it was doubly so. And 
with the change of the seasons came Baby and her mother, 
the latter being engaged to join the company at one of 
the many little towns in the state of West Virginia. We 
heard from our manager that the mother's life had been 
a hard one of late ; she was utterly friendless, her hus- 



LAUGHTER. AND LOVE. 23 

band had died but a year before, leaving her nothing but 
the little two year old baby girl, and since then she had 
failed to obtain an engagement, so that her struggle had 
been a weary one. Our manager having advertised for a 
lady, there being a vacancy in the company, she had 
applied for it, and as he had known her in former days, he 
had engaged her. So at the appointed time they arrived, 
she and Baby. 

From the first we saw that her health was shattered, 
that the struggle for life had been too much for her and 
that the dread seeds of consumption had already been 
sown into her poor, frail body. But she was cheerful 
enough and the pleasure of being at work again seemed to 
brighten her up considerably. Her love for the little girl 
was unbounded ; it was easily seen that whatever the 
mother might have suffered, the child had never been 
allowed to know of her suffering. And Baby, dear little 
Baby, I seem to see her now. A sweet little mite with 
great solemn blue eyes peeping out from a mass of golden 
curls and the little sensitive mouth that at times would 
utter the quaintest sayings. And what a pet she was with 
us all, coming into our lives as she did, like a little sun- 
beam after a long spell of cloudy weather. But from the 
day of her arrival it was Jack Lomax who was her especial 
friend. 

He, Lomax, was a mystery to us all. As to who he 
was or where he came from, we knew nothing. Some few 
months earlier, our leading man had suddenly fallen ill 



24 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



and that day a stranger had called on the manager, say- 
ing he had heard of the occurrence and offering to helpi 
him out. This was Lomax. His offer was accepted, and 
upon his appearance on the stage that night, we saw that 
he was a man of culture and an actor of more than the 
average ability. The sick man having to be left behind, 
Lomax was offered the position and he accepted it. No 
questions were asked, he volunteered no information about 
himself and now, at the time of my story, we knew no 
more about him than when he first joined us. He was a 
handsome, powerfully built man, apparently about thirty- 
five years of age and over six feet in height. He had 
never been a favorite amongst us, being of a silent, morose 
disposition and he had not become intimate with any 
member of the company. We saw little of him outside of 
the theatre and he became known among us as "the disap- 
pointed man." But what a change came over him after the 
advent of Baby! 

On the first evening after joining the company, Baby 
was brought to the little, so called, opera house by her 
mother. The latter said that it would make her nervous 
to leave the little one in the hotel by herself all the even- 
ing, so Baby had to come along too. That night as Jack 
Lomax was standing in the wings with the usual surly 
expression on his face, he suddenly heard a sweet tiny 
voice saying: 

"What's 'oo's name ?" 

Looking down he discovered the little one gazing up at 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 25 

him with her glorious blue eyes. For a moment he appear- 
ed bewildered and then a strange look came into his eyes 
as he said softly : 

"My name is Jack, little one, and who are you please?" 

"Oh, I'se Baby. What a deat big hand 'oo's got, Jack 
and what a deat big man 'oo is. I tink I likes 'oo Jack, 'oo 
can tiss me if 'oo likes." 

Great tears stood in the tall man's eyes as he took the 
child up in his arms and kissed the sweet little face. 
Then he listened to her prattle as she lay contentedly in 
his arms, talking to her in a way we thought Jack Lomax 
incapable of talking to anyone. He seemed like a changed 
being, all the love in his heart appearing to go forth into 
that baby girl. Soon she fell asleep in his arms and then 
he sought her mother and said : 

"Your little girl has made friends with me ; I trust 
you will allow us to become still greater friends." 

And the mother's eyes were moist as she thanked him, 
hoping that he and Baby would be always friends. That 
night and every night afterwards, he wrapped the baby 
up in his big cloak and carried her back to the hotel. 

Day after day that strange friendship seemed to ripen 
while we all looked on wonderingly at the change that 
had come over Jack Lomax. Even his expression changed, 
we no longer saw the surly, disappointed look, but a soft, 
kind expression had taken its place and he spoke gently 
and cheerfully to us all. 

He and Baby were now nearly always together. He 



26 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



would play with her, tell her stories, and when the weather 
was fine he would set her up on his strong shoulders and 
away they would go into the country together. 

As for Baby, all the affection that was not given to her 
mother was given to Jack, to him she gave all the love 
she might have given to a father. It was pathetic to see 
the two of them together, she, the little three year old 
mite, and he, the tall muscular man with the power to 
crush the life out of her tiny body between the fingers of 
his strong hand. I think we all .felt a kind of reverence 
for him now, and our hearts vv^ent out to the child who had 
wrought the change in him. But stronger proofs of his 
great love were to come. 

About a month after joining us, the mother's health 
gave way until at last a day came when she was unable 
to leave her room. .Jack came to the theatre that night 
bringing Baby with him, while in the hotel lay the poor 
mother in the care of a doctor and nurse. On our return 
to the hotel that night, the doctor came and spoke to 
Jack who then went up to the sick woman's room ; the 
nurse came out, and Jack was alone with Baby's dying 
mother. The next morning we knew that the soul had fled 
from the poor mother's body and that Baby was alone in 
the world. Alone with the exception of Jack Lomax. 

Neither he nor Baby appeared at breakfast that morn- 
ing, but just as we had finished that meal they came in 
together. He looked at us all for a moment and then he 
spoke. 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 27 

"My friends," he said, "you all know the sad event 
that has happened, the event which makes this little one 
an orphan, and naturally you are wondering what is to 
become of her, so I thought it best that I should tell you 
at once." After a pause he continued: "You all know the 
great love I have for Baby and how she loves me. Such 
being the case and the fact that she has no relatives to 
claim her, who should take care of her future but I? Yes, 
Ba,by's mother has given her to me, I am to be her mother, 
father, all, and with God's help I will faithfully carry out 
the promise I have given." 

Then Baby looked up and said : "My mamma has don 
to heaven. Jack is doin' to be my mamma now." 

There was not a dry eye amongst us at this point. The 
women sobbed like children, then went up to Jack, begging 
him to let them help him in taking care of Baby. He 
thanked them all gently but said that for the present she 
needed only himself but that should he at any time need 
their help he would remember their kind offers. 

So the mother being laid in her grave, Jack and Baby 
started on their lives together. He took entire charge of 
her and to us it seemed wonderful how he managed it all, 
but he did, and Baby flourished. Always together, day 
after day were this strange pair, walking together, playing 
together, travelling together, in fact living their lives 
entirely together. Never was a father prouder of his child 
than Jack was of Baby ; never did a child love a father 
more fondly than Baby loved Jack, 



28 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



The weeks rolled by and we were nearly at the end 
of our tour when the events happened which I am about to 
relate. Outside the hotel at which we were putting up, 
there was a little garden and one morning in the middle of 
May, the men of the company were all sitting out there 
smoking and chatting, while Baby played around by her- 
self. It happened that someone was telling a rather inter- 
esting story and Lomax had turned to the reciter while it 
was being told. When he looked around again, Baby was 
not in sight. He jumped up, saying: 

"Where's Baby ? Have any of you seen her ?" 

We were startled. She had been there it seemed but 
a moment before and now she had disappeared. Within a 
stone's throw of the hotel there was a railroad crossing 
and it suddenly seemed to strike Lomax for he shouted 
out : 

"My God ! The railroad !" 

His cry was replied to by the whistle of a locomotive 
on its way down the track. Like a flash he was over the 
fence and in the road which led to the crossing while we 
all followed as quickly as we could. And there on the 
track was Baby, gathering wild flowers. Hearing us 
calling she turned, shook her pretty curls and laughed, 
utterly unconscious of the terrible fate approaching. But 
Lomax knew. He heard the train coming around the 
curve and screamed frantically : 

"Baby, come back ! Come back ! " 

But Baby only laughed, she saw no danger. On rushed 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



Jack, his eyes nearly starting out of his head with terror. 
He reached the crossing with the piteous cry : 

"Oh God, the train is on her ! " 

On to the track he flew and had just reached Baby, 

when 

********* 

Even now, though many years have passed since then, 
the thought of the scene that followed makes my blood run 
cold and brings hot tears to my eyes. Only a moment 
before we had seen Jack Lomax and dear little Baby in the 
glory of life and health. A moment after, all that was left 
of them was two crushed, unconscious bodies. It was a 
sight full of horror, piteous in the extreme, and I hope 
that in all my life I shall never witness such another. A 
doctor living near by was upon the scene immediately, 
but there was little work for him to do. There was a little 
life in Jack but his beloved Baby had been killed outright. 
The doctor applied restoratives to Jack and after a while 
consciousness returned. As he opened his eyes he gasped ; 

"Baby." 

Who was to tell him ! There was a short period of 
awful silence which was broken by the dying man as he 
said quietly : 

"Baby is dead, isn't she, doctor ?" 

And with a quivering voice the doctor replied : 

"Yes, she is dead." 

"And I ?" 

And we heard the doctor say : 



30 THE LAND OF MUSIGj 

"There is no hope." 

And Lomax murmured, "Thank God." 

Then he looked up, saying, "Bring her to me." 

We did as he asked and raising him up laid the poor 
little lifeless body in his arms. There she lay with her 
wonderful solemn eyes gazing upward and the smile hover- 
ing around the sweet sensitive mouth, even in death. He 
looked at her tenderly and whispered softly : 

"Never mind, Baby, Jack is coming to you." 

Then he kissed the little dead face pasionately and 
closed his eyes. A moment later he spoke his last words : 

"Good bye, boys," he said, "You were always good to 
us. Bury us together, Baby and me." 

And so falling back he took a last look at the sweet 
little face of the child he had loved so dearly and said 
softly : 

"I'm coming to you, Baby." 

And so the great soul of Jack Lomax went to join 
Baby's. 

We fulfilled his request and buried them together in 
the churchyard of that little country town. There they 
sleep together and at the head of the little green mound 
is a small white stone erected to their memory. It bears 
the simple inscription : 

JACK AND BABY. 
********* 

Years had passed and fortune had favored me, I had 
risen in my profession and had crossed the water to play 



LALGHTEii AND LOVE. 



31 



an engagement in the mother country. One evening during 
this engagement I overheard the following conversation in 
a dressing room of one of the London theatres : 

"Has anyone heard anything of Jack Lomax ?" 

"No, it is only known that he went to the States but 
there all trace of him was lost." 

"Poor old Jack. The death of his wife and child seemed 
to utterly unnerve him." 

"Yes indeed, for he loved them both passionately and 
his little girl was such a beautiful child. It's a terrible 
shock for any man to lose both wife and child within a 
week. Had only the little one been left to him, I think he 
might have got over it, for his love for children was always 
remarkable." 

The speakers were two well known London actors. I 
listened intently, for from them I had learned the secret 
of "the disappointed man." 




32 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

^0«ci>00<i^OO«d:>00^:>0000<:^'0000<i::>00<:z>00<cz>00<^>Og 

Dolly Derrincourfs Nobleman. 

A A Story of a Chorus Girl. jj 

^0<rz>00<cr>00<=l>00<=:>0000<C3>0000<:z>00<=>00<3>00<:^0? 

"Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
That you resolv'd t' effect." 

— ^uikespeare. 



,j.- -A^ HE opening scene of the second act of the 



y '[r V POP"!^'' extravaganza, "The Up-To-Daters" was 



\ \ p over. The chorus girls had a twenty minutes 
J» iL' j.gg|. j^Q^^ and Dolly Derrincourt — one of the 



prettiest of the bunch — hunted up a cozy cor- 
ner and settled herself down to take it easy. Dolly was 
tired, for there had been a matinee that day as well as a 
morning rehearsal, so that any little rest was welcome to 
the weary choristers. 

Dolly was not an old timer in the business, in fact this 
was her first engagement. A romantic mind had led her 
to become a chorus girl and she possessed all the necessary 
requirements for such a position, having a pretty face, a 
good figure, and a voice of fair quality. She was a New 
York girl, having been born and raised in the metropolis, 
but so far she had seen but little of the pleasures that are 
to be enjoyed there, for her parents were very humble 



LALGIITEli A^D LOVE. 



people, and poverty had been her lot all her life. But 
sordid and imromantic as her home life had been, Dolly 
had always possessed a romantic turn of mind, and even as 
a child she would read all the cheap romances she could 
secure, until her mind was satiated with thoughts of mil- 
lionaire husbands and the pleasures that wealth brings 
with it. 

As she grew older she began to think seriously of the 
best means she could employ towards obtaining her heart's 
desire — a rich husband — and one day she read a newspaper 
story about a chorus girl who had been wooed and won 
by an English lord. That settled Dolly and there and then 
she decided to become a chorus girl too and in such a ca- 
pacity to play her cards to catch a nobleman. She had 
little trouble in securing an engagement, for pretty girls 
with good figures were greatly in demand that season and 
the result was that Dolly, very soon after she made up her 
mind tO' go on the stage, became a member of the famous 
beauty chorus in the "Up-to-Daters," the most popular 
Broadway success of the season. She had been with the 
company six weeks now but she was still as far away from 
the goal she aimed to reach, as ever. 

As she sat in a corner of the dressing room on this 
particular evening, she was turning it all over in her mind 
and wondering if her hero would ever come to claim her. 
She was feeling rather sick at heart but she had by no 
means lost hope and she was thinking to herself, "It's 
weary waiting, but he'll come some day." And so think- 



34 THE LAND OF MUSiCj 

ing Dolly closed her eyes and pictured it all out in her 
ignorant little mind just as she had done hundreds of times 
before. 

Suddenly she was aroused from her reverie by the 
voice of one of her fellow chorus girls who threw a letter 
into her lap, saying, "The doorkeeper just gave me this for 
you, Dolly." Dolly opened the letter and as she read what 
was written there her eyes began to grow dim and her 
head grew dizzy. For this is what she read: 

Dear Miss Derrincourt, 

I saw you on the stage this evening and your soul- 
ful eyes and transcendant beauty have taken my heart by 
storm. Your loveliness haunts me, Miss Derrincourt, and 
it is my earnest desire that you will give me the honor of 
your acquaintance. I say honor, for I am an honorable 
man — and a rich one — and though for years I have traveled 
seeking for my affinity, I never met her until to-night. I 
feel that it is fate. If I can only make you love me, I 
shall be the happiest of men. My brougham will be out- 
side the theatre after the performance and I will be stand- 
ing by it wearing a white rose in my buttonhole. Will you 
come to me ? I impatiently await the hour — and your 
answer. Your devoted admirer, 

HAROLD, 
Earl of Northshire. 

Dolly read the letter over again breathlessly. At last 
he had come. At last the romance in her life was to begin. 



LALGHTEIi AND LOVE. 35 



Never a shadow of doubt as to the man's sincerity entered 
her simple little mind, and as to her complying with his 
request, she had made up her mind to do so before she had 
even finished reading the letter. He was an earl, too — a 
real noblem.an ! Oh how slowly that last act seemed to 
run that night — it seemed to take hours instead of minutes 
but it came to an end at last and half an hour after the 
curtain had rung down, Dolly tripped out of the stage 
door looking pretty as a picture and with a new and 
very significant light in her eyes. 

And there, sure enough, was the brougham and stand- 
ing beside it was a tall, handsome man wearing a white 
rose in his buttonhole. When Dolly came to within a few 
feet of the carriage, her heart began to beat unnaturally 
fast and for a moment she stood still and a frightened 
kind of a feeling came over her. The man who was 
waiting for her saw her hesitation and he came up to her 
and said impulsively, "Miss Derrincourt, are you angry 
with me ?" "No — o — o," murmured Dolly, and before she 
knew how it happened she was in the brougham lying in 
the arms of my lord of Northshire, who was making violent 
love to her. 

"Miss Derrincourt — Dolly," he whispered, "I love you, 
devotedly, truly, with my whole heart and soul. I want 
you sweetheart, I want you for my own darling wife, to 
love and cherish and to take care of until death do us part. 
Dolly, dearest, I am a rich man, the head of one of 
England's proudest families and I can offer you everything 



36 THE LAND OF MJJtilC, 

a woman's heart can desire. This is unconventional and 
sudden, but I couldn't wait, dear, and I want your answer 
now. Don't keep me in suspense; it is life or death to 
me." 

Now this was just the sort of thing that Dolly had 
dreamed of all her life and that it could actually be real 
almost took away her breath. But it didn't take her 
long to put her lover out of his misery for as he ceased 
speaking she sank resignedly in his arms and softly 
murmured, "I love you dearest and am yours for ever. I 
have waited for you for years. You are my ideal — my 
fate." And then — well what would be the logical thing to 
happen then ? A period of time given up to osculation, of 
course. 

The brougham rolled on and the Earl of Northshire 
said : "Dolly, I looked and hoped for this answer and 
prepared for it. To-morrow I have to leave for England 
and I want you to accompany me. So that you could do 
so with propriety, I took out a marriage license and made 
arrangements with a minister to marry us to-night. Here 
we are now, dear." 

The carriage drew up at a house and Dolly saw the 
door opened by a gray haired old clergyman. Her lover 
gave her no time to say anything, he almost carried her 
into the house and the next thing she knew the marriage 
service had commenced. She heard the minister say, 
"Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife ?" 
Then she heard a rich, musical voice reply, "I will." And 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 37 



then, turning to her the minister said, "Wilt thou have this 
man to be thy wedded husband ?" Dolly tried to utter the 

response, when ■ — 

********* 
"Hurry up, Dolly, we'll be on in half a minute and you 
don't look fit to be seen. Here, let me help you to make 
your hair look a little bit decent." It was one of the 
chorus girls who was speaking. 

Poor little Dolly ! It was only another dream. From 
latest reports she is still waiting for her nobleman. Maybe 
he'll come some day. Stranger things have happened. 




38 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

MAT 

The Story of a Super. 




ilnlnlnlrtnWnlftriininirilnininlJi^^ 



"Out, out, brief candle ! 
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player 
That struts and frets his ho\u- upon the stage 
And then is heard no more." 

— Shakespeore. 



iL" -Av MET him first in a dingy old theatre in the 

y *3r V ®^^^ ®"^ ^^ London, one of those wretched old 

vfi 2y J/ ramshackle buildings that are now things of 

^"^^^isA/Mr t^® P^^t ^^^ ^^^ remembrance of my first 

entry into it will never leave my mind. It 

was on a dreary November day with one of the worst kind 

of "pea soup" fogs overhanging the great city, when I, 

a youngster of eighteen, made my first entrance into the 

theatrical world and it was with a certain amount of dread, 

mixed with a large share of hope, that I wended my way 

to the theatre that day. I came to the stage door at last, (a 

horrible entrance, wedged in between a tripe shop and a 

baked potato stall) and mustering up all the courage I 

could, I entered. My stage career had at last commenced. 

And there on the dirty, dark stage of that dingy old 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 39 

theatre, I met Mat. He was not an old man, but drink and 
poverty had made him prematurely so. I could see what 
a different man he must have been once, and the dull, 
bloodshot eyes would at times brighten up wonderfully. 
I think he became interested in me from the first, prob- 
ably because of my youth and inexperience and that I 
lent a willing ear to all his hysterical talk, and he soon 
singled me out as a confidant for all his troubles. The 
people in the theatre knew that once he had been a most 
successful actor, but no one could tell the story of his 
downfall. The men suggested drink — the women, love, 
but, bless you, women attribute all ills of men to Cupid's 
pastime. But here he was now, a half mad, hungry super, 
treading the boards with a pasteboard head at a shilling a 
night for his pay. 

As I have said he singled me out from the others and 
told me all his miseries of the present and ambitif nr, for 
the future, but of his past he told me nothing. ''These 
cursed managers," he would say, "won't give me a chance 
and all the men are jealous of my acting, for I can act 
better than any of them and could I only get the chance 
I would set all London talking of my Hamlet, my Richard 
and my Romeo — ah yes, my Romeo!" He dwelt lovingly 
on the name of Juliet's lover, and then suddenly launched 
forth into the balcony scene, reading the beautiful lines 
with such exquisite expression that my young ears were 
astonished at his power. "God ! If I only had the oppor- 
unity !" he cried out as he finished the scene. Then his 



L 



40 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



whole expression changed, he mumbled under his breath 
like the poor, half mad super that he was. 

Poor old Mat. I well knew that despite his undoubted 
genius and the brilliancy with which it would shine forth 
at times, his acting days were over and that never again 
could he be what he once had been, that the chance he 
prayed for would never come. He was too much of a 
wreck, both . mentally and physically, to ever hope to rise 
again from the depths to which he had fallen, but, because 
I saw that it gave him pleasure, I always humored him and 
he would come and talk to me at every opportunity. 
It was a peculiar attachment between the two of us. I, a 
young and inexperienced youth, beginning the great strug- 
gle for life, and he the poor broken down, prematurely aged 
man, whose life had already been lived. 

It was one of the old time stock companies that we 
were in and the whole of that winter I played there, so 
that I had plenty of time for learning more of Mat, but he 
never told me anything about himself — I never learnt his 
name. How he lived on his pittance of six shillings a 
week, I could never tell, but he made no complaint as to 
his financial condition, though many a time I feared that 
he would break down altogether. His short hacking cough 
told the tale of the dread disease that was upon him, 
which, it seemed, must surely release him from his wretch- 
ed life before long, but all through that dreary winter he 
never missed a performance or a rehearsal. Once, and 
only once, I offered him pecuniary assistance and then he 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 41 

drew himself up and replied proudly, "I never yet accepted 
charity from anyone and I never will. Please remember 
that I am still a gentleman, whatever else I may not be." 
Then seeing the crestfallen look on my face he said softly 
and kindly, "I know it was only your kind heart that 
prompted you, but it pained me, lad, so please never do 
it again." And I never did, though God knows I would have 
gladly shared the little I had with him. 

The time dragged wearily along and some weeks I 
would see but little of Mat. At those times, he was the 
half mad, hungry super only, and he would sit alone in 
some secluded corner of the stage and mumble strange 
things to himself and hardly seem to recognize me when 
I came near him. Then, again, he would change and WQuld 
seek me out, sit down by my side and break out into all 
the old maledictions upon the heads of the managers and 
actors who were holding him down, as he said. "But," he 
would almost scream, "It can't last forever and my chance 
will come. It is coming, I tell you ; I can feel it here !" 
And he would throw himself into an attitude and lay his 
poor, thin hand dramatically upon his heart. Yes, his 
opportunity was coming and little we knew how soon. But 
it came at last. 

One night, the horrible cry of "Fire ! " rang out in the 
theatre and in a moment a fearful panic arose. Who, that 
ever saw a fire in a crowded theatre will ever forget the 
experience? It was awful. Men shouting, women scream- 
ing, little children crying ; all struggling in a horrible 



42 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

mass to get out of the burning building, while on the 
stage the fire was slowly but surely spreading. In the 
rush, I lost sight of Mat, but, as I finally got out of the 
doomed building, I heard a woman's agonizing scream, 
"God ! My child is in there ! " The woman was a member 
of the company and her little one was a general favorite 
and a great pet of Mat's. The next thing I saw was the 
figure of Mat springing upon a ladder and in a moment 
more we saw him fighting his way through the dense 
smoke and then disappear. We waited breathlessly. 
Would he ever come out again ? The suspense was awful 
but in less time than it takes me to tell it, he was out of 
the building again with the child in his arms. Down the 
swaying ladder he came, as a mighty cheer rent the air 
and then, after laying his burden in her mother's arms, 
he fell back unconscious, into mine. There was a doctor 
in the crowd and together we carried the poor fellow to 
my room which was near by. He was living and was not 
badly burned, but it was the shock that I was afraid of, 
knowing his weak state of health. We undressed him and 
laid him gently upon my bed and the doctor applied re- 
storatives. 

Soon consciousness returned and as he opened his eyes 
and caught sight of me, a wonderful expression of relief and 
happiness came into them. "Jack," he gasped, "didn't 1 
tell you my opportunity was coming, and it has come at 
last, at last." He was getting excited and we tried to 
quiet him, but our efforts were in vain. With eyes wildly 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 43 



gleaming he went on, "And Romeo, too, my pet of all. And 
Juliet, yes, thank God, it is she, my Juliet, my own 
Juliet. Hush ! Listen to the applause ; hear how they 
welcome me back. I am not forgotten, no I am not for- 
gotten," Then his eyes gradually softened and raising 
himself in the bed he began : 

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound. 

But soft what light through yonder window breaks ? 

It is the east and Juliet is the Sun ; 

Arise fair orb and kill the envious Moon, 

Who is already pale and sick with grief, 

That thou, her child art far more fair than she. 

It is my lady, ah it is my love. 

Would that she knew she were." 

On, on through the scene he went, his voice rising and 
falling with most exquisite musical cadence. Finally he 
came to the lines : 

"Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast, 

Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest." 

Then a soft and marvelously happy light came into his 
eyes and with outstretched hands he fell back upon the 
pillow. The peaceful sleep had come. 

Poor Mat ; his opportunity had come at last. And he 
had taken it. 



44 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 




SPRINGTIME 

A Pipe Dream. 




^' -Aj^ PRINGTIME ! Glorious, exhilarating Spriiig- 
^ Qf^ '^i time ! The time when the world seem;3 its 



vfl dS^ y fairest ; when the soft, balmy air takes the 
^^AivAA/i^ place of the bitter, biting winds of Winter ; 
^" when the song birds, awakened from their 
lethargy, trill forth their most beauteous and joyous songs, 
making the air harmonious with their voices as though they 
were praising and giving thanks to the Maker of All Things 
for the glory of the season. Springtime ! The very word 
seems to make one scent fragrance in the air and to make 
one praise the God from whom all blessings flow. It is 
the time when Hope enters the soul — the time when the 
heart is young. 

Little child of the Springtime you are much blessed. 
Life is all before you and you are too young to know any- 
thing of the dull Autumn or the cruel Winter. You have 
some faint idea of the Summertime of life — you call it the 
time when you will be 'grown-up" — and you think some- 



I 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 45 



I 



times that that state of life must be, oh, ever so pleasant ! 
But such thoughts of the future don't bother your dear 
little innocent head very much, Springtime. The present 
is joy enough for you. Your beautiful great gray eyes are 
bright and clear ; your sv/eet little Cupid's bow of a mouth 
ripples out peals of happy laughter, and the songs you sing 
in the blitheness of your heart, are songs of happy, carefree 
childhood. You are of the world, but you don't know the 
world yet, happy little Springtime. Happy ? Aye, indeed ! 
There is no time like the Springtime for life's happiness. 

How glorious Youth is ! You don't realize all the 
blessings that are showered upon you, little Miss Spring- 
time. You don't know that life will never be quite so sweet 
to you as it is now. You cannot fully appreciate the glory 
and the exhilaration of the Spring season of life. You 
know so little, dear little Springtime ; you don't know 
how supremely happy you are, and it is in that lack of 
knowledge that your happiness lies. Knowledge may be 
Power, but Power is not Happiness. In ignorance lies the 
bliss. When other seasons come and you look back to the 
Springtime, then, and not till then, will you know how 
happy a time it was. Not to know — yes, that is the real 
happiness. 

You are very beautiful, little Springtime. Artists look 
into those wondrous eyes of yours and long for the power to 
paint them truthfully upon their canvasses. Grown people 
look at your cherubic little face and say to one another, 
"How lovely she is !" Old, white haired folks, gaze upon 



46 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

your lithesome, supple and graceful little figure, as you 
play around, shouting and laughing in the exuberance 
of your youth, and they murmur sadly to themselves : 
"Alas for my long lost youth ; that time of happiness with- 
out alloy ! " 

But this beauty of face and form that God has given 
you, has not yet turned your head, little one, because you 
are too young to know the meaning of it. But it may be, 
Springtime, that this beauty of yours will cause you much 
pain and sorrow some day. Be happy then, thrice happy 
in your ignorance, sweet child of the awakening season of 
life ! Knowledge will come all too soon — seek not for it 
too early in life. Be happy, light hearted and ignorant, as 
long as you can, little Springtime, Go out into the wood- 
lands and join with the song birds in their poeans of praise 
to the God of Life, of Love and of Nature. Shake back 
those golden curls, lift up your lovely little head, and 
gaze at the wonders of the universe. Open up your healthy 
little lungs and shout in exultation for the youth that God 
has given you — to be lived but once. 

These days of unalloyed happiness will never come 
again, dear little Springtime. Pain there may be in store 
for you ; long nights and days of silent suffering, perhaps, 
but you can never return to the sweet Springtime days. 
You may long for them some day, little one, with an intense 
and painful longing, such as you never dream of now. Your 
youth once gone, is lost forever, and though you may live 
long into the winter of life, searching for and finding knowl- 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



47 



edge, there may be days when you will kneel and cry to 
your Maker, "Oh, God ! Give me back my ignorance ; 
make me a child again, and bring me back to the Spring- 
time !" But such cries, born of an aching heart, will 
always be in vain. 

Lucky little Springtime, for not knowing all this. 
Happy, blessed, aye thrice happy and blessed little Spring- 
time. 




48 



THE LAND OF MUSIC, 




•^ Ir) Ai) Old Garder) 



A FANTASY. 




There is no Light when Hope is gone." 



I. 



it' 



I 



N a neglected corner of the old garden, hidden 
away behind a tangle of shrubbery and weeds, 



% 

A/ a little rose bush first saw the light of day 



Unnoticed and uncared for, it grew up, and 
one day the greatest event in the life of a 
rose bush happened — a little bud was born. 

Unnurtured and uncared for — just as the mother had 
been from its infancy — the bud grew, and developed into 
a bloom of wondrous beauty. And alone in the dark corner 
of the old garden, it lifted up its head to the glorious 
sunlight. 

For many days the beauteous rose blushed unseen in 
its hiding place utterly unconscious of its beauty — but the 
knowledge came at last. And as knowledge often brings 
pain with it, so pain came into the heart of the lonely rose. 



I 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 49 



11. 

The old garden was ablaze in the glory of the sum- 
mer splendor. Flowers of all kinds grew there in profusion 
and the air was sweet with their fragrance. But of all the 
flowers in the garden, the old gardener loved his roses best. 
Neither kith nor kin had the gentle old man, and the love 
and tender care that other men give to wives and children, 
he had given to his roses. 

From infancy he had reared and nurtured them, and 
each succeeding summer they grew more beautiful and 
more fragrant. And as year after year passed, the love of 
the old man for his roses grew deeper and stronger. 

III. 

One day the rose that bloomed alone in the neglected 
corner, peeped through an opening in the shrubbery, and 
saw the glory of the garden. Visitors were there — 
sweet faced women and beautiful young girls — and the 
solitary rose heard their expressions of admiration as the 
aged gardener pointed out his choicest treasures. 

From rose bush to rose bush they went, and the old 
man explained their various beauties. Finally they stopped 
before one rose, more beautiful, more majestic than all the 
others, and the lonely one heard the old man say : 

"This is the peer of them all. I think it is the most 
beautiful rose in all the world." 

Then a strange sensation came into the heart of the 



50 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

lonely rose, for it suddenly became conscious of its own 
beauty, and it knew that beautiful as the gardener's favorite 
was, it was itself, more beautiful still. 

And the rose in the corner was sad because of its 
loneliness, and it longed for recognition of its beauty. 



IV. 

That night as the dew was falling and the flowers 
looked as though they were weeping, the lonely rose said 
to itself : 

"What is the use of being beautiful if one is unknown 
and neglected ? Why did God give me life and wondrous 
beauty if He intended me to live alone, unseen, unheard 
of ? Why should I live at all when there is nothing in 
life for me to live for ? Oh, Thou who created me, take 
away this life Thou hast given me ! Let me die ! Let 
me die ! " 

And big drops of dew fell from the shining petals of 
the lonely rose. 

Then a common, homely weed that grew nearby, looked 
up and said : 

"Most beautiful one, do not despair. Some day the 
gardener may find you. While there is life, there is 
always Hope ! " 

And that night the rose slept peacefully, for into its 
heart had come the Light of Hope. , 



LALOHTEIi AND LOVE. 51 



There were visitors in the garden again the next day, 
and the heart of the rose beat high with expectation as the 
visitors drew near the neglected corner. A woman's voice 
said : 

"Why don't you tear out these old weeds and make this 
corner bright and beautiful like the other parts of the 
garden ?" 

"I will never do that," said the old gardener. "For 
years I tried to raise a rose of all roses there, and failed. 
The bushes would grow a little, then die away — never a 
bud came. I wasted good years of my life watching and 
tending rose bushes in that corner, and now it reminds 
me only of failure — and death. Let anything that will, 
grow there now. I will never touch it again." 

And blooming alone, within reach of his hand was the 
rose of all roses he had longed for. But the old gardener 
knew it not. 

VI. 

Then the Hope that had come into the heart of the 
lonely rose, died. And that night the dew fell upon a 
withered blossom that would never again hold up its beau- 
tiful head to welcome the glory of the morning sun. 



I 



^O<z:>OO<=>)0<rr>O0<c:>O0O0<z>00O0<cz>O0<:z>O()<z>O()^^ 

I V E RS B j 



HAPPY JAPPY. 

With apologies to Rudyard Kipling 
and "Fuzzy-Wuzzy." 

You really wouldn't think so much of him 

From his miniature appearance on the map, 
But at scrapping he is full of dash and vim, 

Is this "hit 'em hard and come again" young Jap 
He's a fighter on the style of Uncle Sam, 

Though in size he's hardly up to Sammy's knee. 
And he evidently doesn't care a d n, 

For the Russian on the land or on the sea. 

So here's to you, happy Jappy, 

You are on the road to fame. 
Your creed it may be heathen 

But you'll "get there" just the same ; 
So here's to your little soldiers 

And your little sailors too, 
You're an up-to-date and snappy 

Little Japanesy crew. 



54 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 

The nut you have to crack is pretty tough 

For the Russian bear is big and strong and grim, 
And you haven't got a "cinch" by any means 

When you undertake to get the best of him ; 
But you've learnt the lesson well, my little Jap 

That Sam and John and others gave to you. 
And you've got the brains that always tell the tale 

When there's such up-hill fighting work to do. 

So here's to you, happy Jappy, 

Here's a right good health to you. 
May you keep the good work going 

As you've started out to do ; 
And here's to your little wifie, 

Home in flowery Japan, 
She may "honorably" proud be 

Of her snappy little man. 



A WAR TIME HYMN. 

God of the Nations, hear us ! 

God of both right and might. 
Hear thou our prayer arising 

Hear it and grant us light. 
Light that may guide our footsteps, 

Light that may show us the way 
God of the Nations, hear us, 

Answer our prayer to-day ! 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 55 



I 



I 



God of the Nations, look clown ! 

Show us our duty now 
As thou hast done in by-gone days ; 

Humbly to thee we bow. 
Give to us power, O God, most high 

Let the oppressed go free 
God of the Nations, hear us 

Praying on bended knee. 

God of the Nations, hear us ! 

We lift up our hearts to thee 
In thee we trust, O God most high, 

Who rulest o'er land and sea. 
Help us to fight for freedom's right 

Help us the crushed to free ; 
God of the Nations, hear us ! 

Grant us the victory. 

God of the Nations, hear us ! 

'Tis not for blood we cry ; 
Ruler of earth and heaven 

Hear thou a Nation's cry ! 
List to the call of those pleading 

For life and for liberty ; 
List to the cry from Cuba's Isle 

Help us to set it free, 
GOD OP THE NATIONS ! HEAR US ! 



56 THE LAND OF MUSIC. 



THE CUP. 

The result of an overdose of the Rubaiyat 
of Omar Khayyam. 

The tempting CUP is ever at our side ; 

It sparkles, and it pleads for us to drink ; 
It cries : "Oh, mortals, taste of me, I pray ; 

Live while ye may — and pause ye not to think ! 

If, then, this Cup of Life we freely drain. 

And find the dregs composed of poison dire ; 

Shall we then curse the Cup that brought us joy — 
And AFTER dragged us deep into the mire ? 

And this great passion that within us lies — 

That fierce unrest that maddens while it thrills ; 

Shall we that passion stifle — or instead. 

Abandon PRUDENCE for the JOY that KILLS ? 

Or suffering, should we thus philosophize ; 

"A moment's pleasure's worth long hours of pain ; 
And, as we in this way soliloquize. 

Cry, "God ! but grant me such great joy again ! " 

BUT NO ! Dash down the Cup upon the ground ! 

Flee from it far — its sweet temptation smother ! 
Ill drown my passion in another Cup, 

And through its potions thus forget the other. 

And yet, maybe, for one brief hour we'll live 
In heav'n, while yet on earth ; if that be so, 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 57 

Why should we stifle then our heart's desire ? 
That OTHER paradise we ne'er may know. 

Let us then take the BITTER with the SWEET, 
And sweeten all the bitter 's best we may ; 

The little God of Love MAY prove most kind, 
As AFTERWARDS we go upon our way. 

Drink, You and I, the Cup to its last dregs — 

Drive tne swift steed like lightning while we may ; 

Knowing there may be naught with which to fill 
The CUP TO-MORROW— as there is TO-DAY. 



THE SILVER LININ'. 

What's the use of kickin' 'bout the weather ? 
What's the use of growlin' 'bout the rain ? 

What's the use of feelin' badly, 

An' a-looking at life sadly, 
Just as if the sun would never shine again "^ 

Just think awhile about the silver linin'. 
That is always hid behind the blackest cloud ; 

Don't set your blood a-bilin'. 

But always keep a-smilin', 
An' sing the anthem "Thanks for Life" aloud. 
Remember when you hear the rain drops fallin'. 
That a blessin' to this good old earth 'twill brin^ ; 

For the trees will soon be sproutin' 

An' all creation shoutin' 
A welcome to the comin' of the spring. 



58 THE LAND OF MU8I0, 



YOU AND I. 

Dear, this thought is ever with me, 

Shall we try- 
To float down life's stream together, 

You and I ? 

If you love me as I love thee, 

I would try 
From all care and harm to shield thee. 

That would J. 

Let us trudge the world together, 

Love is nigh ; 
Hand in hand we'll never sever, 

You and L 

In our love we'll rest contented, 

Ne'er a sigh ; 
Heart to heart by love cemented. 

You and I. 

Never minding stormy weather. 

You and I 
Will keep sailing on together 

Till we die. 

Clouds must break, and then the sunshine 

Will outpour ; 
Love is life, and we'll be loving 

Evermore. 



I 



I 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 59 



RIGHT OR MIGHT. 

There's war in the far off east, 

The Jap and the Russian Bear 
Have cast diplomacy to the winds, 

And the demon of war is there. 
Go forth ye Japs and Russians — fight ! 

And God give victory to the Right ! 

There's war in the far off east, 

A struggle for life or death. 
And the world looks on with anxious eyes, 

And hot drawn, quickened, breath. 
Two mighty nations are out to fight. 

So God give victory to the Right ! 

There's war in the far off east, 

And we know that "War is Hell ;" 
There'll be desolate homes and weeping wives, 

And the pitiful funeral knell. 
But if quarrel ye must, go forth and fight. 

And God give victory to the Right ! 

There'll be widows away in the east. 
There'll be mothers bereaved and sad. 

There'll be pain and suffering, fear and grief, 
And the wail of the orphan lad. 

But the word's gone forth — and the word is — fight ! 
So God give victory to the Right ! 



k 



(iO THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



THE DRAMA OF THE MASSES. 

Let society have society plays, 

With marriage vows all torn asunder, 

(Those high toned shows of modern days), 
But we'll still stick to blood and thunder. 

Let Pinero and H. A. Jones, 

And Fitch, that most prolific dreamer. 
Keep writing for the social drones — 

But let us have our Theo. Kremer. 

Let Ibsen please the morbid mind. 

Let Bernard Shaw grow even smarter — 

We'll always far more pleasure find 
In plays by good old Lincoln Carter. 

We really don't appreciate 

The plays that smart folk call "artistic," — 
We're satisfied to "gang our gait," 

And cheer the broadly realistic. 

'Tis true there may not be much art 

In Carters or in Theo. Kremers, 
But somehow they can touch the hearts 

Of working folk who are not dreamers. 

For generations past and gone 

This style of play has pleased the masses, 
But been severely frowned upon 

By those who style themselves the "classes." 



LALGHTER, AND LOVE. 61 

The critics they may scorn our tastes, 
And knock us with their little hammers ; 

But when the problem plays are dead, 

We still will have our "mellow-drammers." 



MY LADY MOODS. 

I don't know what to make of her, 

My Lady Moods ; 
So variant is she that she seems 
Some strange creation of my dreams ; 
She is the limit of extremes. 

My Lady Moods. 

'Tis strange how changeable she is, 

My Lady Moods ; 
But there is one mood when her smile 
Would any male thing's heart beguile ; 
But she must change — once every while. 

My Lady Moods. 

She's spring one moment, summer next, 

My Lady Moods ; 
Then frozen winter — hard to thaw ; 
Her moods they know not any law — 
She's simply — well — "Je ne sais quoi," 

My Lady Moods. 



62 THE LAND OF MU8IC, 



THE SHADOW. 

"In the midst of life we are in death." 

'Hundreds are dead," the papers said ; 
'Trampled and burned in their efforts to flee ; 
Men and women, and children dear, 
Who a moment before had laughed in glee. 
And full was the air with the Cries of despair. 
Of the hundreds of seekers of pleasure there." 

***** 
Only a nine days' wonder, that's all. 
The thoughts of the people soon turn away 
From the gruesome scene ; and soon forgotten 
Are they who are resting beneath the clay ; 
But the Shadow of Death and the Terrible Fear, 
Of the Unknown Horror, is always here. 

To-day as we're doing our daily work. 
With life and hope in our every breath. 
How little we think that even now, 
We're standing close to the Shadow of Death ; 
Which hovers around us night and day. 
This Terrible Shadow, grim and grey. 

We know not when the moment may come, 
For the Reaper to call us away from earth ; 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



In the busy race that we daily run, 
We little know what our lives are worth. 
For the fateful Shadow hovers around, 
And danger is lurking in every sound. 

"In the midst of life we are in death ;" 
How forcefully oft are the words brought home ! 
And then for a moment we shudder and think 
That always we stand on the brink of the tomb. 
But tne thought speeds away with the toil of the day. 
Yet the Shadow is never from us far away. 

It is here, it is there, wherever we be, 
That Horror, the Shadow, is ever at hand ; 
And it may be you and it may be me. 
Who next will be called to the spirit land. 
For sooner or later over us all. 
The Shadow of Death must some time fall. 

Though well we know that 'tis ever near, 
But little we fear the Shadow grey. 
For we drink to the dregs the cup of life, 
And give slight thought to the Last Great Day. 
Hearts are as light as the days are long, 
And we meet the Shadow with laugh and song. 




64 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



MEMORIAL DAY. 

In the North and the South, in the East and the West, 

Mid the pine clad hills, and in valleys fair, 

There is many a beautiful City of Rest, 

And each God's Acre has got its share 

Of heroes true and patriots grand, 

Who fought and died for their native land. 

And whether we live in the North or the South 
In the Eastern states or away in the West, 
As loving tribute to those brave hearts. 
To-day we visit those Cities of Rest ; 
And over tneir graves sweet flowers we lay 
On this, the thirtieth day of May. 

Dear to true hearts of the North and the South 

Is this custom we have on Memorial Day, 

Of placing the garlands upon the graves 

Of those who have passed through the Shadowy Way ; 

Of those who fought for their country — their God, 

And now lie sleeping beneath the sod. 

So we honor the dead of the North and the South, 

Of the East and the West — and we go to-day 

To those Cities of Rest where — their work being done — 

The heroes sleep — till the Judgment Day ; 

Who fought the good fight for their country's cause. 

And boldly marched into death's dark jaws. 



LALGHTEli AND LOVE. 65 

There are mothers and widows throughout the land, 
Who will mourn to-day for their soldier dead ; 
There are sisters and brothers, and orphans sad, 
Who many a tear to-day will shed, 
For those who have gone at their Lord's command 
To be soldiers of His in the heavenly band. 

So cover their graves with the blossoms so sweet, 
Scatter the garlands so bright and fair, 
Lay them upon the little green mounds 
With loving hands and with tenderest care ; 
With God's fairest flowers the resting place strew 
Of the heroes who died for the Red, White and Blue. 

The Sons of the North, and the Sons of the South 

Are now One People in this great land ; 

One flag alone floats over them all. 

In war and in peace they go hand in hand ; 

And in many a City of Rest to-day 

Together they'll weep — the Blue and the Gray. 




THE LAND OF MV8I0, 



THANKSGIVING. 

Thanksgiving Day — again we give 

Our thanks to Him for his good grace ; 

And happiness we fain would see 
To-day on each and every face. 

To-day we feast and merry make ; 

With song and laugh the festal board 
Will ring out true, and happy hearts 

Will echo with respondent chord. 

Give thanks to Him who gives you health 
To laugh and jest while thus you dine ; 

Give thanks for home — for friends — for those 
Whose loving care makes comfort thine. 

Give thanks for Love — which in your heart 
Makes all the world look clear and bright ; 

Give thanks that you are what you are — 
For faith that helps you win the fight. 

There may be some who'll say to-day, 
"No thanks for aught have I to give, 

'Tis naught to me this festal day, 
I care not if I die or live." 



I ^%r 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 67 

Because skies frown — because the pain 
And sorrow's gnawing at your heart. 

Don't cry "No thanks for life I owe" — 
For sorrows, pains and fears depart. 

E'en though the world may seem unkind — 
E'en though you're in the midst of strife — 

Fight fortune fair — and offer thanks 
To God, for His great gift of— Life. 




I 



68 THE LAND OF MUSIC, 



AN EPILOGUE. 

(Wrirten on the occasion of F. R. Hallam's revival of the 
classic play, "Damon and Pythias.") 

Hail, Damon ! Aye and Pythias, too. 
True noblemen of bygone age ; 
Whose story now is told again 
By players on the mimic stage. 
Hail, fair Calanthe, sweetest type 
Of womanhood of long ago. 
And Hermion, spouse of him to whom 
Was honor far more dear than life, all hail ! 
And hail to thee, oh Dionysius ; 
Tyrant thou wert, but true nobility 
E'en touched thy heart. 
To all old friends, to Procles, 
Lucullus, Philistius, Damocles, 
All hail ! 

Thou com'st from out the shadows of the past, 
From that dark age, so long, so long ago. 
Before HE came to earth and taught the truths 
Of purity, and innnocence, and love. 
Thou com'st to us as types of noble men 
And noble women, who in all ages 



LAUGHTER AND LOVE. 



Have lived, and loved, and suffered ; 
And when we look at thee, and hear thee speak, 
And feel with thee thy sufferings and distress. 
We know that thou art not mere shadowy figures, 
But men and women of real flesh and blood, 
And so we welcome thee and say. 
All hail ! 

And on thy noble story has been founded 

A noble lodge of men of modern days, 

Who're known throughout this broad, fair land 

As Knights of Pythias ; who teach to day thy lessons 

Of Friendship, Charity, Benevolence. 

Damon and Pythias, though centuries have passed 

Thy teachings yet remain — and will remain 

To make men better, nobler, stronger, 

Than they had been if thou hadst never lived. 




■n 



015 873 457 6 




